


Awake My Soul

by 1lostone



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Both of them are morons, Brief and unexplict Rick/Other, Condoms, Daryl is a poet., Didn't Know They Were Dating, Drunk Texting, M/M, Oblivious, Oblivious Daryl, Oblivious Rick, Pining, Premature Ejaculation, Rick is a mess, Voice Kink, from a conversation like 3 years ago., i blame jlm for everything, safe-ish sex, the 'poet' Daryl idea was totally hers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: Criminal Studies major Rick Grimes and Environmental Science and sometimes spoken word poet Daryl Dixon have apparently been dating for years.When they realize it, all hell breaks loose.Or, The Coffee house/College buddies AU none of you asked for.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, Rick Grimes/Other(s), Rickyl - Relationship
Comments: 63
Kudos: 131
Collections: Lost's Gift Fics





	1. The Realization

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaroonCamaro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaroonCamaro/gifts).



> I have no regrets. 😆I've been threatening to write this thing for years. Maroon asked for awkward sex/pining/ and the prompt 'didn't know they were dating'.
> 
> *cracks knuckles*  
> *rotates shoulders*  
> *wiggles fingers*
> 
> .... I got this.

And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know  
My weakness I feel I must finally show

  
\- Mumford and Sons

“So let me get this straight. You’re cancelling---”

“No. I mean yes. I mean--- _shit.”_

Michonne stared at him, unimpressed. “You always go to the open mic night at Beans on Tuesdays. You’ve _been_ going to the open mic night at Beans on Tuesdays for the past three years. You went after you had your appendix out, even though you had been ordered on bed rest by your doctor. You went on your _mother’s birthday_.” 

Rick winced. He didn’t need the reminder. Michonne’s confusion was understandable. More than, really. Rick sighed, pinching the top of his nose. He scrubbed his hands across the planes of his face, fingers up under the lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses, pressing into his eyelids. 

This was awful. 

Beans and Things was the local coffee shop located near the library on campus at Alexandria College. It was tucked into a huge building that had a laundry mat on the top floor, so between the smell of freshly brewed coffee and clean linen, it was one of the most popular places to go on campus. There was a Starbucks on the south side, near the poli sci building, but pretty much only wide-eyed freshmen went there, more to be seen drinking a Starbucks, than because they had any need for caffeine. Beans was run by an old hippie couple. Carol ran the bakery and coffee bar, and Ezekiel ran the rest of the space-- study rooms, a huge back room that almost always had a game of D&D running in it, and the coveted Beans Stage. It wasn’t much of a stage, to be honest, but it was booked almost a semester in advance, and the open mic poetry slam was one of Alexandria’s most popular events. 

One of those reasons was Daryl Dixon. 

Daryl was a spoken word poet, and Rick had caught one of his shows almost by accident. It had been during finals, and Michonne had been force feeding him espresso so that he could get through his ‘History of the Criminally Insane’ class. Professor Negan and his TA, Lucille were both killers; Rick had been studying for almost six hours straight and was starting to see gruesome murders when he blinked.

Daryl hadn’t looked like much. He wasn’t dressed to impress, and everything about him screamed that he’d rather be literally anywhere else on the planet than performing for a bunch of stressed out students, but then he’d opened his mouth, and Rick had been lost. Rick hadn’t had the guts to go over and say anything, but through a strange quirk of fate the barista Glenn had accidentally switched their coffee orders, and after that, they’d started a friendship. It was one of the most important things in Rick’s life. 

Michonne snapped her fingers. “Hey. Grimes. Focus.” Rick opened one eye. Her voice had changed, and Rick figured that he really looked miserable for her to look so concerned. 

“I can’t go. I _can’t_ see him.” 

Michonne’s eyes widened. “This is because of what Maggie said, isn’t it?” 

Rick swallowed, then nodded. 

“Look. She didn’t mean anything bad by it. Just--”

“It’s... true.” 

At his words Michonne gaped at him, then stood up from his bed to pace around the tiny room. Rick watched her, trying not to freak out. If they wanted space, they could go out into the living room, but for this, Rick had wanted privacy. Maggie was a sweetheart, but nosy, and Eugene was a bit of a weirdo, but gossiped like an old woman. The four of them shared a suite of rooms and while Rick knew that there should have been no secrets between four people that shared a bathroom, the truth was for this bit of panicked introspection- he didn’t want anyone other than Michonne to know. 

She stopped pacing and turned, staring at him with serious brown eyes. 

Rick licked dry lips and told himself to stop being an idiot. “She wasn’t being cruel or anything. But when she said--that, it made me realize that it was true. Daryl and I have been dating for almost three years. Only. . . for him, not a date. Just a friend to hang out with. For me. . .?”

“Date.” 

Rick nodded. “Date.”

“Well, shit.” 

“We go on study breaks together. I go with him to hike through the woods. I catch every single one of his shows at Beans. He comes home with me at Thanksgiving. I know his favorite food- Caramel cheesecake. We’ve seen every Marvel movie, in chronological order, together. I'm listed as Dog's next of kin so that I can pick him up from the vet. When he comes by, he orders my food for me because he knows what I want to eat at the little Thai place on South street." 

“Uh. That doesn’t sound alike a date, man. I know married couples who aren’t as. . . together.” 

Rick threw himself on his bed, which yeah okay that was a little dramatic, but if ever there was a situation that called for ‘emotional swooning’, then this was it. 

“And you’re sure that he’s not into you?”

“Michonne, he’s straight. We had that whole discussion about Black Widow. He dated that Connie girl for almost four months.” 

“Almost?”

“One hundred and twelve days.” 

“Jesus, fuck Rick.”

“I know! This is ridiculous!” Rick pulled his pillow over his face. 

“And you really had no idea that this was a thing until Maggie opened her mouth?”

Rick shook his head from under the pillow. “What am I going to do?” 

“Ask him if he wants his cock sucked?” 

Rick threw the pillow at her. 

“No. Seriously. You’re going to have a conversation with him like an adult. You’re going to tell him exactly what you told me.”

“Oooor, I could ignore it and transfer to State.” 

Michonne rolled her eyes. “No, Rick. Think about him for a second. Think about how he makes you feel when you’re together.” She waited a minute, and Rick did as she asked. The little nervous ball of energy in his stomach was terrifying. “Now, imagine that you feel like this forever. That you never, ever know if he could feel the same way.” 

Rick frowned, then sat up. Michonne bent down to give him a hug, and the scent of vanilla and apples- the oil she used in her hair- gave Rick the comforting feeling of family. Michonne had been his best friend since before kindergarten. They'd grown up next door to each other. She’d been with him through everything. She’d been his first kiss, and his first for other things. . . until they realized that Rick really, really preferred dick over anything female. They’d graduated together, and gone to college together, and lived together. She loved him like no one else on this planet, and Rick knew he was lucky to have her in his life. She hugged him hard, then let go and straightened.

“Call him, Rick. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” 

... TBC! 


	2. The Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are several images at the beginning of this chapter. Sometimes AO3 is funky (especially if you are downloading this as an ebook.) I will put the conversation in the end notes about 10 min after I post.

* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

  


  


* * *

When his phone rang, Rick winced. It wasn’t the ‘oh boy that’s awkward’ wince, but more a mortified, ‘ready to bury himself in the basement and set the whole place on fire’ wince. 

He’d been so. Fucking. Humiliated. when he’d read through his text chain, heart dropping further and further into his alcohol-soaked gut as he read what he’d drunk texted. He _might_ have left a panicked, squeaky confessional of a voicemail on MIchonne’s phone, then immediately regretted all his decisions. He _might_ be avoiding her call right now, in fact. He thumbed the phone onto silent and shoved it in his pocket. 

Rick caught a glimpse of himself in the window of Beans. The black jeans fit him like a glove, and (he was confident on this point if nothing else) did absolute wonders for his ass. The simple, beige chambray work shirt and boots weren’t anything he’d wear to a club, but they were comfortable, and left his muscled forearms bare in a way that gave Rick a _smidgen_ of confidence. He had a brief spurt of nervousness- should he take off his glasses?- before rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. Daryl had seen him in his glasses at least seven billion times. Being self-concious now was stupid. He straightened his shoulders and walked into the coffee shop, automatically returning Carol’s beaming smile. 

He didn’t even have to order. She thought it was hilarious to have his black Americano and donut waiting for him by the time he made his way to the counter; a gentle tease towards his aspirations of future career of law enforcement. 

Rick dodged the study group at the front who had rather belligerently grabbed the couches and were glaring at anyone who ventured too close, and waved at a guy he knew in his Econ class, before spying Daryl sitting with his back to him in one of the darker booths in the back. 

Rick clutched his phone, nervously dragging his thumb over the stylized Colt Python on the back of the case before forcing himself to take the first step. Whatever else happened, this was _Daryl_. His best friend. Oh, Rick had no illusions of how this was gonna go. Best case, Daryl gave him a few weeks of avoidance, then awkwardly texted every once in awhile once he got over his embarrassment. Worst case? Rick shuddered. He didn’t even want to think about that. 

“Hey, man.” 

Daryl must have been more wrapped up in his phone than Rick realized, because he jumped at his words, shoving the phone under the booth. Rick raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask, setting his coffee and donut (Really. Why Carol thought he’d be _upset_ that she gave him a free,sugary ball of delight every few days was one of life’s greatest mysteries.) onto the scratched surface of the table. He slid into the booth across from Daryl and had to swallow hard, fighting to keep his face composed. 

It was like now that he knew that he felt. . . more. . . he couldn’t turn that part of him off and shove it back down deep where it had lived, perfectly happy being oblivious. 

Daryl looked good enough to eat. 

Rick shoved half the donut in his mouth. 

Rick knew his schedule about as well as he knew his own, and on Tuesdays, Daryl carved an hour out of his busy schedule to go to the gym. Normally he showered, but he must have been in a rush, because Daryl was still dressed in the tank top and shorts that he worked out in. They didn’t smell terrible, but the sharp scent of sweat and deodorant made Rick shift in the booth as he subtly inhaled. His hair was pulled back into a stubby ponytail, and it left Daryl’s cheekbones on perfect display. 

_He was so, so fucked._

“Hey.” Daryl took a deep breath and stared at him, eyes obviously taking in everything about Rick’s appearance in a glance. 

The silence stretched. Rick deliberately finished his donut, then took a drink of his perfectly brewed coffee.

They were interrupted when ‘Touch of Grey’ came on the speakers and Ezekiel started belting out the words, singing into a some salt and pepper shakers.Their eyes met in one of those perfectly synchronized moments, moments where they almost knew what the other was thinking. Rick couldn’t help his grin, but it quickly fell off his face when he saw Daryl look back down at the table. 

Ezekiel did this with what would be alarming frequency, if his voice wasn’t as good as it was. The two of them joined in the applause, and the older man took his bows with all the flourish of an actor that knew he had owned the stage. 

“Rick.” 

Rick looked away from a sheepish Ezekiel kissing Carol to meet Daryl’s gaze. 

“What’s going on?” 

Rick licked his lips, then nervously picked up some crumbs he had left on the table, brushing them off onto the floor. He didn’t know where to start. 

“Come on, man. You’re scaring me. Are you. . . sick? Is there something that happened with your family?” 

Rick shook his head. “Naw. I said, it’s nothing like that. Just. . . me being stupid mostly.” 

Daryl’s face went blank, and Rick winced. Daryl hadn’t shut him out like this in forever, but it was hardly like he could blame him. He watched Daryl nod, but when he started to shift his weight as though he was preparing to get out of the booth, Rick panicked. 

“Wait!... I just. . . it’s hard to say. And it’s going to piss you off and I’m trying to avoid that but everything I keep doing just fucks it up more. Just. . . give me a sec.”

Daryl’s arm was tense where Rick had unthinkingly grabbed it, but he settled back into the booth. 

Now the silence was awkward. Rick felt like an idiot, and he just wanted this part to be over. Seeing that Daryl was upset already was disheartening enough that Rick knew he better quit screwing around and just. . . spit it the fuck out already. 

“I was sitting in my suite, watching a movie with Michonne. You had just left to go home; Dog needed to be walked. Maggie. . . “ Rick stared at one of the larger scratches on the table as though it held all the answers to all of the questions in the universe. “Maggie made an offhand comment, and it. . . freaked me out a little.” 

“What’d she say?” 

“She said it was too bad that Daryl had to end the date early.”

Daryl blinked. 

“It wasn’t even that she said it. Or that she was being mean or anything. But I realized. . . to me, that was a date. And if that was a date, then everything else we did together. . . was also a date. You know me better than anyone on the planet- you even know some stuff that Michonne doesn’t know. We. . . have this platonic date thing gong on.” 

Daryl was silent for several minutes. “And. . . that’s bad?” 

Rick scoffed. “Of course that’s bad! You’re my best friend. My _straight_ best friend. The last thing you need or want is me getting my.. my. . . _feelings_ all over you.” 

The silence stretched, heavy. Rick looked up from the table to see that Daryl was staring at him. He forced himself to hold his friend’s gaze. 

“What feelings are those, Rick?” 

“I’ve. . .” Rick’s voice dropped to a whisper. “ I’ve fallen for you.” 

The sound of a coffee cup shattering against the floor like a small bomb caused both of them to turn quickly to face a mortified Carol, who was looking back and forth from the two of them with wide eyes and cherry-red cheeks. “Fuck! _Shit_! Sorry- sorry. . . don’t mind me.” She picked up the pieces with her broom and scuttled back behind her counter. The two of them both pointedly ignored the way she hissed something at Ezekiel who did a truly terrible job of pretending to ignore the whole situation. Hell. He was probably taking notes. 

“I. . . I think you’re a little confused.” Daryl rubbed the back of his neck, eyes drifting down to the table and back up to Rick’s. 

“You think I’m confused? About how I feel about you?” Rick’s voice hardened a little. He ignored the warning voice in his head, screaming at him not to fuck this up. 

Daryl snorted. “Well, yeah. Not for nuthin’, but yesterday you were getting sucked off by some guy in the back of a bar. I don’t doubt that you feel. . . something, but I-” he cut himself off abruptly, and Rick wanted to cringe. Daryl leaned forward and to Rick’s absolute shock, he tentatively stroked his fingers against Rick’s. “As to us dating. . . I can see why Maggie would say that.” His smile was tiny, but it made Rick’s heart thud painfully in his chest. 

“You.. can?” 

Daryl nodded. “To be honest, I thought you’d figured out how I felt about you and.. I don’t know.. was disgusted by it or somethin’.”

Rick knew his mouth had fallen open. “But. . . !”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Damn, man. You’re so worried about cramming me in a box that you can label with neat little handwriting.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Labels can be messy. Yes, I've dated Connie. But that doesn't mean I don't want--I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’m hurt that you didn’t trust me enough that you couldn’t just talk to me. I’m. . . struggling with the fact that you let some man touch you, and I know I have no right to be jealous but _fuck_ , Rick. When I read that text I wanted to. . .” 

Daryl huffed a breath, eyes narrowing. Rick continued sitting there with eyes wide enough that he was sure he looked like someone had just up and knocked him upside the head with a board. He wasn’t entirely unsure that this wasn’t a dream.

When Daryl leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips over his, Rick’s ‘s eyes shut. They felt strangely tight, as though he was about to cry. His lips felt tingly, as though there’s been a low grade electrical current brushed over them instead of Daryl's slightly chapped lips. Rick leaned forward to kiss Daryl back, just as softly, just the barest hint of contact. Their second kiss was just as devastating as the first. 

“Will you let me. . . take you out?” 

Rick’s eyes popped open. 

“A real date. You, and me. Full awareness that this could have some potential for. . . more. And if it doesn’t work. . . or like, it lows up in our faces or somethin’, we both swear not to let it fuck up our friendship.” 

Rick forced himself to sit back in the booth. He forced himself to take a breath, and then another, really thinking about what Daryl had said. 

“I think. . . that would be perfect.” 

* * *

* * *

Rick's phone: (11:23 pm)

Daryl: Carol said your spot is empty.

Daryl: Everything ok?

Daryl: Rick?

Rick: Yeah. Something came up. I'll talk to you later, okay? 

Daryl: Oh

Daryl: Alright. Text me later

Rick: 👍

* * *

Daryl's Phone: (3 am)

Daryl: Rick?

Daryl: Oh shit. Sorry. It's late. I'll catch you tomorrow. 

Rick: Heyyyyy

Daryl: Oh hi! I thought you'd be asleep. Is everything okay?

Rick: I went out with some friends.

Rick: Well I dint know them B4 but i do now

Rick: Drank some

(3:08 am) 

Rick: hooked up with some guy in the back. Best three seconds of my life haha

Rick: Daryl.

Rick: Darrryyyylllll

Daryl: You need a ride home?

Rick: Nah. Ubered.

Rick: Took you long enough to reply

Daryl: U serious?

Rick: Had time to get inside the suite. Went around Eugenics and am inthe bed.

Rick: Had time to get inside the suite. Went around Eugenics and am inthe bed. (the msg repeats) 

Rick *Eugene 

* * *

Rick's Phone- (9:15 am)

Rick: Holy shit I am so so sorry. My phone died last night and I woke up late and just read through what I texted you and I was so shitty. I can't believe I told you that and then drunk texted you. I feel like shit for missing your think and I swear I didn't ditch you to go hook up.

* * *

Rick's Phone- (12:19 pm)

Rick: Daryl?

* * *

Daryl's Phone- (2:02 pm) 

Daryl: had class.

Rick: Again, I'm sorry that I missed your show.

Rick: And I think I sexually harassed you. Sorry. I try not to talk about that with u. Don't want to make you uncomfortable.

Daryl: yeah well

Daryl: I was more worried that you were shitfaced. Hooking up with random dudes is not your style either

Daryl: you gonna tell me what's up

Rick: I will. But I think it should be in person.

Daryl: alright

Daryl: Meet me at Beans in an hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💖  
> Texts were made using http://ios.foxsash.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOps I changed the chapter count. My bad.

TW-- Friendly reminder that Maroon asked for awkward sex. Hmmmm. Challenge accepted. So, here is your awkward sex. I mean Awwwwk ward. My literal goal was to make people cringe. :D It starts out in this chapter and continues through the err.... messy conclusion, so consider yourself warned!

* * *

Rick sat in Michonne’s yellow and orange fluffy chair, quietly reexamining the life choices that had brought him to this ball-twisting nervousness. 

In the week since their kiss, Daryl and Rick hadn’t seen each other. They’d decided that the anticipation of their first ‘for real with intent’ date should have some build up, and the two of them had decided to not see or talk to each other. Texting was fine, but even that had an underlying sense of anticipation to it. 

They’d gone back and forth and back and forth on what to do for their break. In the end, they’d decided to go to Daryl’s place and watch a movie. Rick was bringing dinner, and Daryl had the snacks and privacy. Rick didn’t expect anything to happen, he did know if they tried to have it in his suite, they would have Maggie, Michonne, and Eugene popping up like Jacks in the box. Both agreed that the date would be low-key. Neither had any particular desire to spend a bunch of money at a fancy restaurant, and Daryl was adamant about not going to a club or bar, so a quiet night in was what they’d decided. Some would think it pretty lame, but Rick thought it fit them pretty well. 

All Rick had to do was finish getting ready. Michonne had insisted on doing something to his hair, and Rick had been sitting here for what felt like hours. 

Hence the nervousness. 

Rick had never dreamed that he’d be so nervous. In. . . twenty minutes!!. . . he’d be able to tell whether or not these feelings were really reciprocated; whether or not they were better as friends rather than the potential for anything else. Whether or not he needed to change majors and Universities and join the Marines.

“Okay stand up. Let me see what it looks like.” 

Rick shut his eyes in prayer and stood, opening one eye and then the other, cautiously. 

He looked. . . amazing. 

His hair, depending on the weather, came in two forms: ‘bushy’ and ‘chia pet’. Michonne had put some sort of product in it that made him look. . . 

“Well, damn.” 

“Right? Those are the jeans you decided on? Not something. . . tighter?” 

Rick shook his head. “No.” 

She arched an eyebrow at him in question. Rick just nodded and frowned. “I don’t want him to think I”m going there to just hook up.” 

Michonne stared at him nonplussed. After a moment, she spoke. “Okay. . . so the cargos then?” 

Rick nodded. That was as good as anything else. He didn’t much care.

Michonne managed to stay quiet for exactly twelve seconds (Rick may have counted), before speaking. “So. . . you’re  _ not _ going there to hook up?” 

Rick shrugged a shoulder. “You know what he said. I don’t want to fuck anything else up.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to be so. . . “

“Much of a dumbass?” 

“I was going to say ‘indecisive’, but yeah. Close enough.” 

“It’s just. . .” Rick trailed off, eyes meeting Michonne’s dark brown gaze in the mirror. 

“Yeah.” She shrugged one shoulder, knocking it against his. “You’ll be okay.” She looked at her phone. “But, if you don’t get the lead outta your ass, you’re gonna be late!” 

Rick made a sound that he would deny until his dying day was an “eeep!” and hustled back into his room for his keys, wallet, and (because he fervently believed in the Boy Scout Motto) a few condoms. 

* * *

Rick did an admirable job of forcing himself to obey all the rules of the road, but it still felt like he made it to Daryl’s place in .0005 seconds. He pulled up and shut off the car, popped a breath mint in his mouth, and futzed with his hair for a few minutes until the butterflies in his stomach started leapfrogging over each other, then made his way up the stairs to Daryl’s door. 

Rick didn’t know what he was expecting, but Daryl Dixon meeting him shirtless, a serving spoon clenched in his teeth, and wearing bright orange potholders was not it. 

“Fit! Fie red is urning!” Daryl dashed off, and Rick stood there holding the door, blinking. He turned and shut it, looking around the small loft apartment with a faint grin. Daryl bustled to the small kitchen, where smoke was billowing out of a cast iron skillet. Rick could see Daryl’s shirt, covered in. . . something. . . draped over one of the chairs at the counter. 

In the open living space, the normal clutter of books had been straightened up. Instead of the messy stacks, there had been an attempt to shove them in the already-bulging shelves of the Ikea bookshelf he and Daryl had put together a year or so ago when Daryl had moved in. Dog lay curled up on his part of the couch and woofed at him in a friendly manner. Rick crossed to the couch and bent to pet him, making sure to give his ears a good scratch. The coffee table had also been cleaned, and the potted plant moved to cover the few rings that marred the wooden surface. The tv showed some old Western, the subtitles flashing at the bottom of the screen. 

“Shit!” 

Rick turned towards Daryl, watching as he plotted the iron pan into the sink. The  _ shhhhhhhhhttttttt _ hiss of cold water hitting the piping hot pan caused steam to waft through the small apartment. The acrid scent of burnt. . . something was cloying in the back of Rick’s throat. 

Daryl stared at him, utterly dismayed for a few beats. 

When the smoke detector went off, Dog started barking at the noise, and Rick had a hard time not going to him and just hugging the poor guy. Daryl just squeezed the top of his nose and turned to open a window. Rick walked over and turned on the vent fan, trying not to let his face indicate any hint of the atrocious smell. It looked like a small bomb had exploded on the counters. The amount of red was truly alarming, and if not for the faint scent of oregano, Rick would have been concerned that someone had been butchered here. 

Eventually the alarm went off, and Daryl turned to him, frowning. “So much for dinner.”

Rick raised his eyebrows. “Pizza?”

“Fuck yes. You order, and I’ll try to clean this up.” 

The pizza place, Mama Rosmata’s, knew their order as well as they did, and since Daryl tipped fairly well, the pie was there in about 30 minutes. He could hear Daryl muttering to himself under his breath as he cleaned up his kitchen, but the scent remained, despite the open windows. The pizza helped. It was their favorite, pepperoni, mushrooms, and double onion. 

They managed to keep the conversation light- mostly making fun of the Western- until they’d eaten their fill. Rick became aware of something he’d never experienced with Daryl before. 

Mind-numbingly crushing awkwardness. 

The silence stretched, until neither of them even broke it with a sarcastic comment or idle platitude. Dog even seemed to pick up on the tension, glaring at Rick balefully before licking once at Daryl’s hand and moving off of the couch to go lay on his bed by the closet. 

Every single thing that Rick had rehearsed in the week that they’d been texting dribbled out of his mind like soap bubbles down a drain. He’d forgotten everything. The silence, stretched, lengthened. Rick swallowed, unable to shake the horrible, creeping feeling that he’d make a huge mistake. 

He cringed a little when he caught Daryl looking at him out of the corner of his eye. That was it. Daryl had decided that this wasn’t going to work. He’d been disgusted, or pissed, or whatever that Rick liked dick, and couldn’t handle it, but  _ fuck _ was Rick proud of him for trying. He had to. . . okay it sucked. It sucked a  _ lot _ , but he had to stop this before whatever remaining tenants of their friendship broke into nothingness. 

Rick told himself that the feeling in his chest was just indigestion from the pizza, inhaled, and opened his mouth. He turned to Daryl to begin to attempt to apologize. 

“Dar--- _ mmmppph _ !”

The kiss was  _ not _ sweet. Their teeth knocked together painfully enough that Rick felt the skin of his lip tear a little. Daryl’s jaw was sharp as  _ fuck _ , and it felt like he’d been punched. 

Rick winced and pulled away, holding his lip. 

Daryl looked absolutely  _ horrified _ .  He scrambled back away from Rick, his back hitting the arm of the couch with a small thunk of sound. R ick realized that Daryl was coiled, ready to spring away from him and some presence of mind caused him to reach out to Daryl, wrapping his hand around his bicep. “Just. . . okay, ow, but Just a second.” Rick felt a little like the Tin Man after he got oil. He stretched his jaw and licked at his lip. Daryl’s face was horribly pale, and Rick just  _ knew _ that he was about three seconds at most from calling this whole thing off. He moved closer on the couch so that the line of their thighs touched. “I’m gonna kiss you, okay?” 

He could hear Daryl swallow, hard. The other man nodded.

Rick leaned forward, and brushed his lips over Daryl’s cheekbone. He’d only recently admitted to himself that he was weirdly fascinated with Daryl’s bone structure. He knew that he’d been in an accident when he was younger, and his face was a little off from the classic symmetrical lines that all the magazines and models tried to tell him was what he should find attractive, but Daryl’s face was just. . . 

Rick kissed down, aiming for his mouth, but getting the corner and right under his nose instead as Daryl moved his face towards Rick’s. 

He heard Daryl snort, and Rick couldn’t help the way his lips quirked into a small smirk. He shifted a little closer, and cupped Daryl’s face with his hands, keeping him still, and tilting his head just enough that Rick could kiss him properly. 

It was like a match igniting an inferno. 

Something just gelled, and Rick found himself yanked into Daryl’s lap as the other man kissed the life out of him. Whatever unsurity there was in the beginning had drained away.

Daryl kissed like he did everything else, with his whole heart, strong, confident and with purpose. 

Rick thought he’d damn near swoon. 

Daryl’s tongue was in his mouth, and his teeth nibbling along Rick’s jaw, and he did this thing with his earlobe that Rick was pretty sure had him leaking in his underwear. It was almost overwhelming; the intensity and need that Daryl felt for him. 

Rick took off his shirt, and Daryl groaned at that, hands scrambling for his own. 

Rick could feel the hard line of Daryl’s dick in his jeans, and every time Rick rocked his hips, either accidentally or on purpose, Daryl grunted a bitten-off curse. 

When they pulled apart, Rick was dizzy enough to see spots in front of his eyes. He realized a bit belatedly that Daryl had one hand down the back of the jeans it had taken him so long to decide on, and Michonne mere seconds to approve of. 

“Fu---uck.” Daryl sucked in a breath, staring at Rick with wide eyes, his gaze flicking from Rick’s mouth, to his naked chest, to the bulge of his cock behind his underwear, framed in the vee of his open pants. A small burst of something warm slid through Rick's body, effervescent and full of light. Daryl looked absolutely _wrecked._ His shirt had lost two of the buttons, and he'd only managed to get one arm out of it. The other was caught on something and Daryl had seemed much more worried about keeping his hand on Rick's ass, then fucking with his shirt. The line of his cock was clearly visible, and Rick couldn't help the low sound he made at the sight. Daryl was almost panting as he stared back. 

“Is that what you want?” Rick didn’t know where this was coming from, this dark, low confident tone sounded a lot more how Rick  _ wished _ he sounded than the voice he had. “Do you want to fuck me?” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC!  
  


(Spoiler alert- Daryl does, indeed!) 


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl’s hands closed on Rick’s body. The fingers tightened so much on Rick’s forearm that he knew he’d have bruises tomorrow. Something must have shown on his face, because Daryl let go immediately and reached up to cup Rick’s jaw. 

“So alone, searching. Trees in the forest, no sound, no wind, no life.” Daryl kissed the line of his jaw again, and Rick froze, realizing what Daryl was saying in such a low whisper. “A meeting, a chance. Your heart and mine. Bodies touching, hints of burning desperation--” Daryl scrapped his teeth over Rick’s collarbone, then down again over his nipple. Rick jerked, moaning. “Comforting like sweet coffee kisses in the morning.” Daryl’s hand lifted Rick out of his underwear, and Rick gasped, cock twitching to full harness in Daryl’s grip. His long fingers, heavy with calluses, scraped against all the most sensitive skin. Daryl’s voice was low, the same whispered intensity that he used to fill the stage. To have all that focus and intensity on him made Rick’s heart shiver in its chest. 

Daryl’s tongue trailed around the pebbled nipple, and when he tugged a little with his teeth, Rick cried out. “In my arms, in my body, in my brain, a hurricane of sensual touches, storming together, no eye no calmness here--” Daryl’s thumb slid over the tip of Rick’s cock, and he froze. “Only the Fierce fury of our bodies clashing together, waves upon a shore.” Daryl sucked on Rick’s nipple, squeezing his cock with a twist that made Rick see stars. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ !” 

Like the hurricane Daryl had just described, Rick came so hard that his entire body seized; unable to stop the sensation of his balls tightening or the muscles in his pelvis. Thick ropes of come spurted over Daryl’s fingers, and Rick was helpless as he realized he’s just shot off like a kid on his first date. He twisted off of Daryl’s lap and almost stumbled, tucking himself back in and cringing at the clammy wetness against his skin. 

“Rick?” 

Rick saw that Daryl had stood up out of the corner of his gaze, his face twisted in something that looked almost like fear as watched Rick bolt for the door. 

Rick was absolutey, utterly, fucking  _ mortified. _ Furious, embarrassed tears burned in his throat as his hand scrambled against the door handle. Dog barked twice and Rick had the bare presence of mind to brace himself as the dog rose on his hind legs, putting his two front paws on Rick’s shoulders. He barked again.

“Hey man, wait a second.” Daryl’s hand curled around Rick’s wrist. Rick faced the door, cheeks burning, unable to bring himself to turn around. Dog was well trained, and Rick realized that the only way that he would ever do something like this was if Daryl had given him a hand signal to. 

“What--”

“I am sorry. I couldn’t. Your voice. The wor--” Rick cut himself off, hunching in on himself, wishing he could shut the fuck up. Dog whuffed, as though telling him that this behavior was simply unacceptable, and went back to all four paws. He sat down in front of the door, wagging his tail. 

“Wait a second. You think that you coming for me was a bad thing?”

Rick stayed silent. 

Daryl tugged on Rick’s wrist, and Rick reluctantly turned around. He still couldn’t meet Daryl’s gaze. Daryl took a step forward so that their bodies were touching. “Rick. Come on man. You think that having you in my lap, having my mouth on you and you reacting like that to my words is a  _ bad _ thing?” 

Well, when he put it like that. . .. Rick peeked up at Daryl under his eyelashes. “It was too quick for our first time.”

Daryl bent his knees so he could duck down to meet Rick’s eyes. “Baby we’re not even close to being done with our first time.” 

Rick tried not to let his face show the way his heart swooned at the pet name, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was if the way Daryl’s blue gaze darked was any indication. Feeling inordinately brave, Rick leaned forward to kiss Daryl, and he didn’t miss the flicker of smugness on the other man’s face before their lips brushed together. And yeah, okay he got that. Rick was the one with the big, gay experiences. Yet Daryl was leading this show, and Rick didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on. Well, obviously enough to come in .0003 seconds after Daryl got his hand wrapped around his cock, but somehow he hadn’t ruined everything with his hair trigger; Daryl was still interested in seeing where this was going to go. 

Rick took a deep shaky breath. 

“Okay.” 

Daryl’s hand slipped from Rick’s wrist to entangle with his fingers, and he tugged again. Rick bit his lip, trying to push the insecurities deeper down, and followed him, one, slow, hopeful step at a time. 

Daryl’s bedroom door was open. Rick had been there for various reasons, but never with such purpose. He’d helped Daryl to bed after one too many drinks, and he’d brought Daryl soup once when Daryl had (according to him) a version of the plague, but he’d never sat on the mattress, or felt the give of the springs underneath his back. 

Daryl followed him onto the bed with a grin, knee walking on the mattress until he could reach down and kiss his lips again. Rick squirmed against the drying come on his underwear, wincing when it pulled at the skin there, but it was hard not to lose himself in Daryl’s kiss. 

The feel of his solid body against his made Rick’s blood sing. The brush of Daryl’s skin against his was instantly addictive, and Rick found himself wrapping his arms around Daryl’s broad shoulders. Daryl moaned when Rick scraped his teeth over his Adam’s apple, and Rick gasped when Daryl retaliated with a filthy rock of his hips against Rick’s. He wasn’t hard- not yet- but the sensation still sent his blood singing in his veins. 

“I’ve thought about this,” Daryl whispered, low. 

“Yeah?” Rick reached down to help Daryl take off his shirt. Daryl balanced on one knee while he undid his jeans, and with a quick glance at one another, both of them scrambled out of their clothes. Daryl kept on his underwear, but Rick gave absolutely no fucks, figuring that Daryl had pretty much seen the worst. He stripped out of his clothes gratefully, kicking them across the room hard enough that something slid off the floor with a crashing sound. 

“Fuck. _ Fuck _ , man. Lemme look atcha.” 

Rick was pretty sure if Daryl told him to drink the fucking Kool-Aid in that tone of voice he’d chug it down with the same dopey grin. 

Daryl didn’t fuck around. He flopped onto the mattress so that half of his legs hung off and bent to Rick’s cock. Rick couldn’t help the furious blush when Daryl looked at him, licking at the line of his hip. 

“This would be a lot more impressive if I was hard.” 

“Oh, it’s pretty damn impressive. I wasn’t sure if I would want to have this inside me, but I think. . . maybe next time?” Rick couldn’t help the small quirk of his lips at the way Daryl started off so confident and still ended with a question, as though he doubted that Rick wanted to be here. 

“Next time, huh?” 

Daryl looked up the line of Rick’s body to meet his grin. “I am a positive thinker,” he said almost primly. 

Rick snorted. Daryl could be one of the most morose motherfuckers on this planet. He loved him anyway. The gasp of shock made Rick freeze, eyes widening as he realized that he said that out loud. 

The silence lengthened. 

And lengthened. 

Rick’s eyes narrowed. All of the sudden, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, reaching down to cup Daryl’s chin. The fact that Daryl was staring at him with his mouth hanging open made every insecurity Rick had ever had all come to attention at once. “What? You want me to take it back?” He huffed out a breath, trying not to show any of his goddamn stupid, unwanted  _ feelings.  _

Daryl scrambled up and covered his mouth with both hands. 

“I love you too, you stupid fuck. Don’t you  _ dare _ take that back.” 

They both stared at each other. 

Then burst out laughing. 

Some of the laughter might have been a wee bit panic-stricken, but mostly they laughed at the fact that they were both kind of stupid for each other. Eventually though, Rick realized that he desperately needed to kiss Daryl’s laughing mouth. So he did. 

One kiss turned into two. Which turned into six. Which turned into . . . well, Rick lost count to be honest. 

“Hey, Rick? I have an idea. Let’s shut the hell up until I manage to make you come on on my cock, okay?” 

Rick thought that sounded like an absolutely splendid idea, and concentrated on kissing down Daryl’s body. His dick finally got over his second (and third-hand embarrassment) and got fully on board with that evening’s festivities. Rick lost himself again in the feel of Daryl’s mouth, in the brush of Daryl’s skin against his own.  _ This _ is what he wanted: to lose himself in the sound of Daryl’s pleasure as he moaned and gasped as Rick slowly learned all his sensitive spots on Daryl’s body. 

When he finally wrapped his mouth around Daryl’s cock, Daryl sat up, almost bending down over the back of Rick’s head and back, hanging on for dear life. The taste of him was salty, the stretch of trying to suck him into his throat enough to give Rick back a tiny bit of confidence from his awful earlier performance. Eventually though, Daryl’s tugs on his hair gently guided him off his cock, and Daryl met his mouth with sweet desperation, kissing him hard enough that Rick lost himself again. 

“Here.” Daryl pressed a condom and a small bottle of lube into Rick’s hand. It wasn’t his preferred brand, but it would work. The lube was oil based which would be a bitch to clean up later, but again, Rick gave no fucks. The mental image of Daryl going to the store to buy this, thinking of either Rick being inside of him, or him being inside of Rick made Rick’s own cock twitch. 

“Okay. This good? Me on top?” 

Daryl nodded hard enough that Rick was amazed he didn’t sprain something. 

Rick glanced down at Daryl, whose face was tight with need. The blowjob had maybe gone on a few minutes too long- Daryl pulling his hair was hardly a deterrent- and Daryl had his hands fisted at his sides as though he was desperately trying to hang on. His cock was wet and lying against his stomach, and oh fuck. Rick  _ wanted _ that. 

“You watch me.” Rick thought mementairly about putting the condom on with his mouth, but at the rate he was going tonight he’d aphysiate on the fucking thing. Instead he carefully tore open the package and rolled it down onto Daryl’s wet, red cock. The end snapped and Daryl winced, reaching down to position it over the girth of his dick. 

Rick licked his lips and spread some of the slick on his fingers, swinging one leg over Daryl’s thighs, and reaching back to prepare himself. Daryl stared up at him with his mouth open, pupils almost completely dark as he watched Rick open himself up. 

Rick knew he’d probably regret not prepping more carefully later, but he didn’t think he could wait anymore- even with already coming. His own cock drooled precome onto Daryl’s dick, and each time it did Daryl groaned, clenching his fists tighter. 

Rick leaned forward and carefully positioned Daryl for him to slide in. It took a little bit of finesse, and a helluva lot more patience than either Rick or Daryl had. “It’s been--- god you’re so. . .  _ fuck _ .” 

The tiny, smug smirk reappeared. Daryl gasped in a deep breath as the head of his cock slid inside. Rick pulled off, teasing, only to let the latex-covered head tease his rim. Daryl bit his bottom lip, and pleased that the smugness left (not that Rick could blame him given that he’d essentially told the guy he had a huge cock, which he  _ did _ ) and Daryl’s hands gently curled around Rick’s hip bones. 

They worked together until Rick was fully seated. The heat of Daryl’s body made Rick break out in a fine sweat, and he shivered, adjusting. 

Daryl looked absolutely dumbfounded, and Rick wanted to see that expression on his face forever. Daryl tightened his abdominal muscles to lean up to kiss Rick, and Rick bent down and 

“Holyfucking **_FUCK_ ** !” 

Rick saw stars. 

Dimly he was aware of Daryl’s slick hand wrapping around his cock. Every nerve in his body was concentrated on Daryl’s dick spreading him open. Rick started to rock, and Daryl started to thrust, and they found their rhythm quickly. 

Their kisses turned into panting,, open-mouthed breaths against each other’s lips as Rick gave up any hope of trying to make this last. Daryl was too hot, the heat almost palpable as it rose between them, his body too solid and  _ real _ and 

“Oh god, oh god I love this. I love you, don’t. . . don’t stop!” 

Daryl couldn’t speak. His mouth tightened as he concentrated on fucking up into Rick, rubbing over the spot that lit him up from the inside. Every thrust made his whole body shake and he felt himself go over with a strangled scream. His vision whited out. He heard bells. 

Daryl was maybe a half a heartbeat behind him. 

Rick collapsed on top of Daryl, and felt Daryl’s shaking arms hug him tight. 

Of course, that’s when he noticed that: the room was on fire, and the ‘bells’ he’d heard were a little more literal than figurative. 

Daryl’s smoke alarm. 

Daryl shoved Rick off of him, jumping up so quickly that Rick lost his balance, landing onto the floor hard enough that he lost his breath. From this angle, he had a clear view of his jeans- the ones that made his ass look awesome and that he had kicked off earlier- ignite. 

The candle he had knocked over lay beside it, and Rick literally stared at the ceiling for a beat, then peeked under the bed, waiting for someone to jump out and tell him that he was being punked. 

Daryl quickly jumped up and flung the still bruning jeans into the tub, using his shirt to pat out the tiny scorch marks on the carpet. He flung open a window with such force that the condom fell off his softening dick with a wet  _ plop! _ against the windowsill and Rick? 

Rick fucking lost it. 

Later. . . much  _ much _ later (after the fire department and Daryl’s neighbors had left) they were able to cuddle in the bed together, even though Rick would still snigger every once in awhile. Daryl would shush him, then manage to be silent for a few heartbeats, before he’d snort his own laugh and they’d go through the whole process again. 

When Rick finally fell asleep, it was with a smile on his face, in Daryl’s arms, and with the comforting sound of Daryl’s heartbeat, following them to sleep. 

(And the lingering scent of smoke? Well that. . . that they don’t talk about.) 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Heh Heh.


End file.
